


All I'm Asking Is To Be Alive

by Nyxierose



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Implied Sexual Content, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4050370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Learning to be human is easier said than done.</p><p>A few cute Nux/Capable moments, post-canon fix-it style.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I'm Asking Is To Be Alive

**Author's Note:**

> For the kink meme prompt - "Someone needs to teach the war boy how NOT to be a war boy". Obviously, cuteness and very light // implied smut ensued.
> 
> First time writing fic for these two precious ones, so zero idea if this is any good.
> 
> Title from "Momentum" by Vienna Teng.

Nux comes back three days later. No one is entirely sure how, but he comes back - nearly bled out, barely any paint left on his skin, but  _alive_.

It's a matter of seconds before he's enveloped in a blur of pale blue cloth and bright red hair. Every part of his body hurts, and he didn't even know humans could embrace each other this tightly, but he doesn't have the heart or strength to push her off. He just clings to her, letting his weight fall on another person, and breathes her in.

He came back for her, he thinks. He doesn't know words for what he feels towards her, but Capable is something different. She's shiny, yes, but she's also warm and good and even crying a little bit as she holds him. Her head leans into the good side of his neck and she presses her mouth there, and he's starting to wonder if softness is always a bad thing because  _she_ is soft and yet she is just fine. Maybe things aren't always clear like that.

"I thought you were dead," she whispers when she remembers how to breathe again. "I thought you were dead."

"I think I  _was_ dead," he mutters, smiling even though he knows she can't see it. "But somehow..."

* * *

He's stuck in the makeshift infirmary for a week. A  _week_. In the world he's used to, being still for as much as an hour is a damning act. He's used to running on empty, pushing his body as far as it'll go, hoping death will take him fast and soon. He is decidedly not used to rest, especially of an involuntary nature, but he has no choice in the matter. The Sisters, as they're calling themselves now, have collectively decided that he's of no use to anyone until he's functional again and that's  _final_.

He's hooked up to various blood bags, all of them volunteers asked by Capable herself. She is the first to bare her arm for the treatments, and she gives more than any of the others do. She holds him as he is stitched and prodded, strokes his head when a fever comes on the third night, never leaves his side for a heartbeat longer than she has to. If he survives this, it will certainly be because of her kindness.

When they let him leave, he's prepared to go back to his hole in the warrens, but her fingers wrap around his wrist at exactly the right moment. "I want you to stay with me," she says, completely calm. "If you want to. I've made space if you want it."

He can't find words, so he kisses her cheek and nods enthusiastically. As if he could ever say no to her.

* * *

She's so delicate with him. At first he thinks it's because he's been recently sick, but days turn into weeks and he heals as much as he's going to and she's still careful. She asks before she takes his hand, before she wraps her body around his as they lie in their bed.  _That_ detail was not a question; there's a cot in the corner of the room if either of them wants it, but he doubts it'll ever be used. He's used to body heat, and she seems to like the same. Half the time he wakes up with a mouthful of her hair, but it's worth it.

She asks if she can kiss him nearly a month after he comes back. Not like they've done before, she explains, not on the cheek or forehead or eyelids. She wants to kiss him proper, on the mouth - but only if he wants that too.

He knows enough to understand her caution, but sometimes he thinks she doesn't know enough to understand his own. Since the first moment she saw light in him, he's been willing to do just about anything she wants. On some level, he knows that's a bad thing, knows he ought to have backbone... but he's still learning that, and he's definitely clung to worse.

In the end, he's the one who initiates that kiss. She's soft and warm and wet and willing and this is what he used to think death would feel like, back when he wanted it more than anything. But really, he's never been more alive than in this moment, taking her in and moaning as her fingers dig into his hipbones. He could definitely stand doing this again.

"Did you like that?" she asks when they need to breathe again.

"Yeah," he nods. "Did you?"

"Very much." She kisses him again, slower and shorter this time. "You're very sweet, Nux."

He smiles so big that he might as well be glowing. "You're... you're amazing. That was shiny."

"Good."

* * *

They navigate their relationship slowly. They have  _time_ , she emphasizes - they've checked, there are ways to heal him, it'll take time and he'll still probably die young but he has  _time_. There is no need to do anything before they both want to, and they spend months learning how to just  _be_.

In this, her journey is easier than his. She's so sure of herself, she has been since he's known her. She has an easy confidence in her, which serves her well as she takes charge of the Pups. The older ones run wild, mostly harmless without a direct minder, and Capable focuses on the youngest of them. Barely able to move freely, some of them, lost little things in need of protecting. Within minutes, they all love her. Within days, they'd all die for her. Training them not to want to die is a project, but the younger ones can still be saved.

The older ones... well, that's where Nux is deemed useful again.

He has a voice, Capable tells him. Though he no longer wears the paint, he still has the scars. He's one of them by blood, and most of them see his authority. Nux the Reformed, most of them call him, but the name is used almost as an endearment. His role is not to cure anyone so much as keep the chaos to a dull roar. Keep everything functional, really. That, he can do just fine.

They work together more often than not, determining which parts of the old system are beyond salvation and which parts can be redirected for better purposes. They organize, clean, bring light into the warrens. They rebuild.

* * *

She puts his hands on her hips one night and tells him that she  _wants_. It's alright if he doesn't, she says, she more than understands that, but... she does, if he's a willing participant.

He's not sure what to say so he kisses her. He's taken to doing that when his brain short-circuits, losing himself in the taste of her as a way of focusing. It's good now, her leg slinging over his hips and her almost on top of him and grinding down. Very good.

"Is that a yes?" she asks in that way she does sometimes when she's scared. (He's known her six months and he's seen that look maybe three other times and it hurts to watch.)

"Yes. Yes please."

* * *

In their aftermath, with her body curled around his, Nux feels human for the first time he can remember. Not invincible, not destined for greatness, but human in the best way.

"I love you," he breathes, stroking her hair.

"I never thought anyone would say that and mean it," she whispers against his chest.

"I mean it. More than anything."

"I know."

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
